


In Stillness, In Silence

by snakepitnakki



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Civilian Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, JayTim Week, JayTimWeek2019, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-18 23:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakepitnakki/pseuds/snakepitnakki
Summary: And he would never hear the words on his forearm out loud, never be filled with that bright warmth that so many dream of feeling upon meeting their fated match.After all, the dead don’t speak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic I've written since like...7th grade. and I have a college degree now. so. I'm a little rusty.
> 
> eternal thanks to @anordinarytrashcan for the beta and the support.....love u long time

The thing about the dead is--

They don’t speak.

Tim sighed in frustration, scratching at the faded gray words on his forearm. They hurt to look at, but somehow, it seemed to hurt even more when he tried to pretend that they weren’t there at all. He should’ve been used to it by now-- the burning sensation that seemed to sweep up from his wrist, engulfing his right arm up to the elbow. It flared up every now and again, mocking him, making its presence impossible to ignore. He’d been dealing with the uncomfortable sensation every day for four years now-- the universe’s idea of a cruel joke, a painful reminder of what might have been, what should have been.

What could never be.

“You’re looking a little melodramatic,” came a whisper from his right. “I mean, I know the play was sad, but like, it’s really not that deep.” Tam bumped his shoulder, lips curling in amusement.

Tim blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry.” He whispered back. Tam’s amused look grew softer. 

“I’m sorry. I know this unit probably sucks a little bit for you.” She said, leaning on him. Her eyes flicked to the whiteboard in the front of the classroom with the words “Shakespeare and the Soulmate” emblazoned in thick black marker. Tim leaned back, shifting in his seat. 

“It’s fine. I was just thinking about work later, honestly.” He reassured her with a soft smile of his own. He had only known Tam for a semester, but he felt as though he had known her his entire life. Before he moved to Gotham, he didn’t really have any friends like her. Sure, he had had some acquaintances here and there, but he had spent most of his childhood inside his home, schooled by the best private tutors that money could buy; as a result, he lacked some of the social skills that others his age had long since mastered. Now that he was out on his own for the first time, studying at Gotham U, he was finding himself reaching out and connecting to others for what felt like the very first time. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts once again as everyone around them began to stand up, gathering up their belongings. He blinked in confusion.  _ I managed to zone out for the entire class period. That’s a new record. _

Tam stood up too, unceremoniously dumping her notebook and pens into her bag. Tim followed suit, and soon enough, the two of them were making their way out of the building and into the quad. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you the notes tonight.” She winked at him as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. 

“Thanks, I owe you one.” He said in relief. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“ _ One? _ Oh, that’s really cute, Drake.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes, laughing. “I am single handedly keeping your academic career  _ alive _ .” 

Tim blushed, but didn’t refute her. When it came to things subjects like math and science, Tim could do the work in his sleep. But his grades in English usually left a little to be desired. He knew he was smarter-- smarter than your average bear, even-- but English just never seemed to quite hold his attention the way other subjects could. It was too personal of a subject, and focused too much on thoughts, feelings, and other internal aspects that he preferred not to think about. Most of the required readings centered on and around Soulmates, which, nope. No thanks. Tim preferred to put all of his thoughts on that particular matter into a little box and shove it to the farthest corner of his mind, never to be opened.  _ Dead dove, do not eat _ , whatever. Despite the fact that it was his least favorite subject, one that inevitably hurt him every time, it was the one thing he thought about the most. Most English classes only exacerbated the wound. 

A light beep caught Tam’s attention. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and frowned. “It’s my dad,” she explained, stuffing it back into her shorts. “I gotta get going. Talk to you later?” She was already turning around to head back in the opposite direction.

“Sure.” He replied easily. He watched her go, then turned around and trudged towards the bus stop. He sat down hard on the empty bench, subconsciously rubbing his forearm again. He was accustomed to solitude, having lived in it nearly his whole life. He had even grown to like it as a child. His childhood was by no means perfect, he knew that well enough. At five years old, his father invested his meager savings into a tech startup located in Central City. Soon enough, the Drake family cut ties with their roots in Gotham and relocated. It wasn’t long before the Drake family made their way into the Central City uppercrust-- but the life of a socialite wasn’t very conducive with the life of a parent, and Tim often found himself home alone with just the occasional maid for company. While he had missed his parents at first, he soon grew accustomed to his new life. He could raid the pantry for fruit snacks whenever he pleased, and there was nobody around to tell him  _ not  _ to slide down the bannister. He was free to play and dream to his heart’s content, and when he  _ did  _ feel that itch for his mother and father-- well, they were only a phone call away. Being alone didn’t mean being lonely.

Besides, he could always find comfort in his Soulmark. 

Nothing quite brought comfort like parents and soulmates.

But one day, at 12 years old, the black ink of his Soulmark disappeared, and two years later, so did his parents.

Nothing quite brought pain like parents and soulmates, either.

He could no longer call up his mother and listen to her soothing tones over the phone. 

And he would never hear the words on his forearm out loud, never be filled with that bright warmth that so many dream of feeling upon meeting their fated match.

After all, the dead don’t speak. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to anordinarytrashcan for the beta....ur a babe

By the time the bus let Tim off on his street in the East End, the sun was finally beginning to set, tinging the streets of Gotham in a blazing orange. It was one of the rare days where the sun peaked its way around the clouds, letting the people know that it hadn't abandoned the city of Gotham-- not yet.

He slowly walked along the sidewalk, letting the tide of the late afternoon/early evening commuters bump and bustle him along. Absently, he considered that he needed to stop somewhere and stock up on some more groceries. He had promised Tam that he would start paying more attention to what he ate after the last time she had come over to his apartment to study. The look on her face had been absolutely murderous when she realized all that his refrigerator contained was an old, nearly-sentient cartoon of take-out and a six pack of Redbull. _ “I just got you, Tim, I can’t lose you to starvation!” _

The memory made him smile as he passed his building, heading for the bodega located a few blocks away. There were other bodegas that were closer, but the one a few blocks away, Lena’s, had bodega cats-- plural. 

The bell above the door gave a soft chime as Tim tugged it opened, immediately stopping to pet the large, fluffy cat lounging on the counter. 

“Hello, Thaddeus.” He gave the cat a soft scritch under the chin, and turned to smile at the elderly woman behind the counter. “Hi, Lena.”

The woman smiled back, red cheeked, eyes sparkling. “Oh, Timothy, _ two _ visits? In a single month? You’re _ spoiling _me!” 

Tim rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Oh, ha ha.” He retorted sarcastically, glancing around the shop. “Where’s Eudora?”

“Oh, she and Thaddeus got into a bit of a scuffle earlier, she’s probably brooding somewhere around here.” Lena replied, turning back around to continue stocking the cigarette display behind the counter.

“Ah, of course.” Tim replied, picking up one of the cheap red baskets by the door. He made his way further into the store, throwing the occasional grocery item into the basket. “So how have you been?” He called out over his shoulder.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Lena called back as they continued with their individual tasks. “I had to run a few kids out of here this week for trying to lift some Oreos. But nothing too major, thankfully.”

Tim made the appropriate noises of interest as he inspected the milk cooler. “That’s good.” He selected a half gallon, and crouched down to pet the orange fluffy paw sticking out from behind the soda pallets. “Hey, girl.” He whispered to the cat. “I heard you lost a fight today. You’ll get him next time.” He smiled and stood up, just in time to catch the tail end of what Lena was saying.

“--because of the Red Hood. I’m not sure how to feel about it.” Tim blinked in surprise. He was still getting used to being in a city that was actually able to _ see _the vigilantes that protected them, and not just a speeding blur. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked as he set his basket up on the counter. Lena began checking out his items. 

“I said that there have been a few more robberies around here lately, because we’re close enough to the Bowery, but a little too far out of the Red Hood’s territory. He really put the fear of the Lord into the petty criminals over there. The big ones, too.” She rang up his total.

Tim pulled out his wallet and handed over the money absently. Had his parents still been alive, his apartment’s location definitely would’ve been a point of contention. It was a nice enough neighborhood, for Gotham, and had nowhere near the levels of crime that could be found in other neighborhoods. But, as Lena said, they were only separated from the Bowery by a few miles stretch of the river. 

“Stay safe, Timothy!” Lena called to him as he gave Thaddeus one last pat and walked out the door, his out goodbyes called over his shoulder.

It was significantly darker outside than it had been when he first arrived, a byproduct of the season. It was October, and the days were growing noticeably shorter. Pulling his jacket closer, arms laden with his plastic bags, he began the trek back the way he came. The streets were much emptier now, only the occasional straggler left on the sidewalk. 

He was only a few streets from his building when he was suddenly overcome with the unsettling feeling of being watched. He glanced back and became all too aware of the figure that seemed to be following him. _ Calm down. They aren’t following you. _ He tried to tell himself that he was fine, but still couldn’t shake the sense of uneasiness. He decided to quickly cut across the street to see if the figure would follow. He hit the opposite sidewalk with an extra burst of speed, almost propelling himself into the open alley in his haste. He quickly looked back to check if the figure had followed, just in time to watch them continue on walking, not even sparing Tim a glance. He let out a breath. “Get a grip.” He whispered fiercely to himself. His talk with Lena must have put him on edge. 

He shook his head, as if to clear it, and went to continue on his way when a loud _WHUMP _from the alley he was standing at startled him. He jumped a bit at the noise, and peered into the darkness. Due to the light from the street at the opposite side of the alley, he was able to make out the faintest outline of three figures. One was crumpled against the wall, unmoving, while the other two exchanged blows. The faint light glinted off of the red metal helmet that covered one of the men. Tim’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. _Speak of the devil, Lena._ _That must be the Red Hood that I’ve heard so much about. _

Beyond chatting with Lena, the Red Hood mostly existed in whispers and murmurs. He was one of the many Bat themed vigilantes in the city, but at the same time, he was an entity in his own right. Some thought of him as a hero, cleaning up the city in ways that Batman never could. Others thought of him as a villain, a stain on the Bat name, another one of the city’s silent shames. Rumor had it that he not only carried guns, but _ used _ them-- lethally. While Tim didn’t know much about the Bats of Gotham, he did know that none of them ever, _ ever _killed. How much of that was true, Tim wasn’t sure-- he didn’t live in the areas that the Hood was known to patrol in, and didn’t really know or associate with anyone from that area, either. _Which _ . _ Huh _ . _ What the hell is he doing in the East End?_

Tim looked on as the Hood took down the other man, incapacitating him with graceful ease. Based on the location of the scuffle, Tim deduced that he must have dropped down on the pair from above. Tim stilled as the glowing white eyes of the helmet looked in his direction. _ Shit _. 

Despite the fact that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Tim suddenly felt the urge to explain himself, if not to just avoid an unnecessary ass kicking. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words.

The Red Hood looked back to the two thugs unconscious on the ground, and turning away from Tim, crouched down, pulling zip ties out of one of the pockets on his belt. He tied the mens’ hands together and stood back up, turning around. The eyes on the helmet seemed to bore straight into Tim. Silently, Tim held up his hand, thumb out, and gestured behind him, as if to say, _ “I’m just gonna go” _. 

“Hold still-- watch the broken glass.” The voice caught Tim completely off guard, robotic as it was coming from the helmet. He froze instantly, not even processing the large amount of glass shards that littered the alleyway opening where he stood. A deep cold encased his fingertips in a flash, quickly moving its way up his forearm and into his shoulder, where it swept across his chest, punching the air out of his lungs. A block of ice settled in his stomach, and the tip of his nose twitched as if frostbitten.

Tim’s mind raced a mile a minute. No. Not possible. No fucking way. Those were-- they were-- _ those were his words _ . His _ soulmate words _ . His _ grey _soulmate words. Grey, because his soulmate had--

“Hopped the twig.” Tim breathed out, eyes wide. That was what his caretaker, Mrs. Mac, had told him as she pulled him close to her chest, his body wracked with sobs. _ Your soulmate has hopped the twig. They are at peace. _

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” The robotic voice growled out as the Hood rapidly advanced down the alley towards Tim, who was still frozen in place.

“You’re not-- you can’t be--” Tim babbled nonsensically, trying to make sense of what was happening. Maybe it was just a coincidence, the universe’s idea of kicking him while he was already down. His words weren’t all that uncommon, and just because this_ Red Hood _ had managed to say them didn’t mean that he was his _ soulmate _ . But he _ had _felt something, the coldest sensation he had ever felt, the sort of unnatural cold that nipped at the noses of people when their soulmates died. He had felt it once, long ago, when his words first turned grey. That freezing sensation that threatened to swallow him whole. It felt the same now as it had then.

But one wasn’t supposed to feel cold upon hearing their words. It was meant to be a warmth, a radiant warmth like a personal sun lodged between your ribs, the soft and soothing kind of heat that felt like laying in a sunlit window, stretched out and content like a housecat. That was how everyone he had ever met had described it, at least. 

Tim was brought out of his racing thoughts as two rough, leather clad hands grabbed the collar of his jean jacket and shook it. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I thought that, I mean, _ those are my words _ .” Tim managed. He stumbled back out of the Red Hood’s grasp, dropping his plastic grocery bags to the ground. He quickly reached for his shirt sleeve and yanked it upwards, exposing the pale grey text on his arm, written in a quick, semi-sloppy cursive. _ Hold still-- watch the broken glass _.

A thick silence hung heavy over the pair, saturated with tension. Slowly, tentatively, the vigilante reached out with a gloved hand and lightly touched Tim’s bare skin, jolting his hand back nearly immediately. Goosebumps broke out along Tim’s arm in response. Even through the voice modulator, Tim could hear the faint sounds of the Hood’s breathing. Tim looked straight at the gleaming scarlet helmet, directly into the glowing white lenses of the Hood’s eyes. 

A faint groan of pain came from behind the Hood, further into the alley. It was from one of the unconscious men, and it snapped the electrifying moment that the pair had been locked in. The outside world came rushing back into focus, and Tim suddenly realized a sharp pain in his foot. He spared a quick glance down, only to realize that he must have stepped on one of the larger glass chunks when he came careening from across the street, the shard slicing through the soles of Tim’s favorite pair of cheap sneakers. 

Following Tim’s line of sight, the Hood caught sight of Tim’s now upturned sole. “I told you to watch out.” He murmured softly. He reached up once more, settling his hand on Tim’s shoulder. They both pretended not to feel the jolt at the joint contact. “Where do you live?”

“Just up the street. 412 West View.” Tim replied without thinking. “Why?”

“The complex?” The Hood asked, ignoring Tim’s question.

“Yeah, but--” Tim cut off as he suddenly found the Hood latching his other hand onto his waist, scooping Tim right up off of his feet. Before he could protest, or even process, he felt a sensation of weightlessness that had him squeezing his eyes shut. Seconds later, he felt much steadier, and opened his eyes to see that he was now on top of the building they had just been standing next to. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be indignant, as dazed and confused as he was from the past ten minutes. 

“Which apartment?”

“Eight. I can walk, you know.” Tim mustered. 

“Noted.” The Hood replied, continuing forward. Luckily, there weren’t any alleyways separating the buildings leading up to his apartment complex, and it was a short, smooth walk before he felt the sense of weightlessness one more time. Tim glanced around, noting that the Hood had managed to land on his apartment’s meager balcony. 

“How did you know which one--” 

“You see one complex blueprint, you’ve seen them all.” The Hood replied. Despite the shortness of his words, he slowly lowered Tim to his feet, gingerly stepping away from him. “Make sure you clean that out. And buy some better shoes.”

Tim turned around, opening the small sliding patio door. “I will, but I think we should--” A slight whoosh of air from behind had him cutting his words off once more, and when he turned back around to face the Hood-- _ his soulmate! _ \-- he was gone, only the darkness of Gotham greeting him, not even a trace of the man that had been there but moments before.

That night, after Tim had disinfected his foot (upon further inspection, it was merely a shallow cut, more startling than it was truly painful) and mourned his lost groceries, he lay down in bed, staring up at the darkness of his room. His mind was absolutely full of visions of his soulmate, apparently returned from the dead. He had Googled the Red Hood earlier, but other than the basic, cursory information, there wasn’t much to learn. Hardly any pictures existed of him, and those that did were blurry, grainy CCTV stills that did him no justice at all. Just this afternoon he had been slogging through his least favorite class, lamenting over the loss of his match, only to stumble upon him completely on accident not but two streets away from his own apartment.

In the chaos and confusion, Tim hadn’t even shared his name. But he knew that he had to meet the Hood again, had to have a conversation with him, had to get answers. He had spent so long suffering, in pain, wondering what sort of fate had befallen his soulmate so early in their lives. Now, to see him in the flesh felt overwhelming in all the best ways, as well as all of the worst ways. His soulmate was a _ vigilante _. Tim needed an explanation, and felt as though he deserved it, too. 

Finally, as the first fingers of dawn began to streak in the sky, Tim fell into a fitful sleep, mind plagued with thoughts of his soulmate-- the man out of the grave, and under the Red Hood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently I made my grand return to the world of fic writing during the soulmate prompt week for JayTimWeek 2019 completely on accident/by coincidence....my mind....
> 
> anyway I wrote a big long mess that I've broken up into two chapters, so an update should be coming within the next 24 hours. I'm sorry if the tone/flow seems wonky or inconsistent, I'm hoping that I can get everything all smoothed out as time goes on. also, I edited the last chapter to fix italics and whatnot, because I uploaded in HTML because I have chronic dumb bitch disease. so if you wanna check that out, you can:)
> 
> thank you so much for the kudos/comments/support. reading/seeing them was an extra shot of serotonin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to anordinarytrashcan, the best beta a gal like me could ask for

Tim woke up to his alarm blaring. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, shutting off his alarm. After looking at the time, he realized that he must have slept through the beginning of his alarm, at least. He had stayed up pretty late, after all, tossing and turning. Thinking about his  _ soulmate, holy shit, holy shit, my soulmate! _

Tim didn’t even bother trying to scrape together his belongings to make it to class on time. He knew that he would never be able to focus on something so trivial as schoolwork. Not when his soulmate was out there, alive and well after all.

He stumbled to the kitchen and started up a pot of coffee to help get him going. He needed to think. The Red Hood knew where he lived now, but Tim wasn’t sure that he could wait until however long it took for the Hood to show back up. No, he needed to be proactive. The idea of a life with his soulmate was a real and tangible possibility again for the first time in years. He was going to go out there, he decided. He was going to go out and find the Hood again himself. It was the only option, Tim’s sleep addled brain reasoned. The Hood didn’t know how Tim had suffered these past few years. It was absolutely urgent for Tim to lay his eyes on the other man again, as soon as possible. 

Tim knew from previous conversations with Lena and Tam that the Bowery was Hood’s territory. He didn’t venture further out on patrol than the bridge, usually, and the fact that he was even in the East End last night was a complete stroke of luck. Tim wasn’t too awfully keen on walking around the Bowery late at night by himself, but if he was being totally honest, there wasn’t very much that he  _ wouldn’t  _ do to see his soulmate once more. 

A tentative plan now in place, Tim allowed himself to go back and take a few more hours to himself in bed, in order to be properly rested for tonight’s plan. He set his alarm once more, and now that he had his thoughts semi straightened out, once his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

Tim slept a little longer than he intended to, even with his alarm, but decided that it was probably for the best anyway. If he had too much time to himself before he headed out, he would undoubtedly just work himself up.

The green, digital clock on the back of his stove said that it was 7:30. Well rested as he was, he couldn’t help but make himself one last cup of coffee, then suited up. He put on his favorite pair of black jeans, the ones that hugged him just right, and a simple tee and denim jacket. With a quick glance at his discarded tennis shoes from the night before, Tim pulled out a pair of thick-soled, durable combat boots. Nothing as inconsequential as a cut would stop their conversation-- not this time.

He made his way into the hall, locking his door behind him, hands only slightly shaking in anticipation. He made his way into the elevator and slumped against the back wall.  _ Get ahold of yourself. Get it together. _ By the time he made it to the lobby, he had composed himself in a way that would no doubt have made his mother proud.  _ Never let anyone see your cracks _ , she used to say. The older he got, the more he understood her, even if as a child, the practice had felt more stifling than anything. 

He made his way down to the end of the street to the corner bus stop. The sun was sinking low, and even though it was a reminder of how he had pretty much wasted the day, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any sort of shame. The bus pulled up right on time, and he boarded, only one of a few passengers. There wasn’t much business that anyone in the East End had in a place like the Bowery. Well, not much legal business, anyway. 

With evening traffic, it took the bus nearly 30 minutes to cross the bridge into the opposing neighborhood. The further in they traveled, the more the city around them seemed to deteriorate. Tim looked out the window as the fences seemed to get higher and the windows grew to have more and more reinforcements. This side of Gotham was easy to forget, and even easier to plain ignore, separated as it was from the mainland of Gotham. Tim himself felt a little guilty at how little he acknowledged the existence of the neighborhood. 

The bus rolled up to a stop located in front of an old convenience store with a cracked front door and a large “FOR LEASE” sign posted haphazardly in the window. He disembarked by himself, shuffling from one foot to the other under the yellow glow from the streetlight. He contemplated the direction to take. He didn’t know the Hood’s exact patrol route-- truthfully, he didn’t even have much of a semblance of the route at all. He couldn’t be everywhere at once; he was only one man. Tim tried to think of where he was most likely to be. It was still pretty early in the evening, so he had least had some time to double back if he came up empty handed. With that in mind, he decided to head even further north into the neighborhood. The north end bordered on Crime Alley itself. Tim wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to venture that far in, but was ready and willing to do whatever was necessary, in the end. He stuck to the right side of the sidewalk, hugging the curb, keeping his eyes locked straight ahead as he walked at a decent clip.  _ It’s just a neighborhood. It isn’t inherently dangerous. Just because it isn’t well maintained doesn’t mean everyone is a criminal. _

Despite his determination, the closer he crept to Crime Alley, the more doubts began to rear in the back of his mind. He had come so far, but he was beginning to reluctantly admit that he was a little bit out of his element. He had lived in a poorer area of Gotham once, as a child, but it had been a long time since then, and much had changed. The Central City mansions of his adolescence were a far cry from the Bowery, and try as he might to remain partial and non judgmental, he still felt uneasy. It felt as though he had eyes following him around every street corner. He tried to conjure up the carefree way he had roamed these streets as a kid.

Suddenly, gunshots broke the silence of the night, sending Tim’s heart thudding. Shouts accompanied them, coming from about a block away. Swallowing, he began to advance towards the noise.  _ Okay. We are going towards the gunshots. This is cool. This is fine. _ This sounded like the sort of scuffle that the Red Hood would be involved in, after all. And if he wasn’t there…well, Tim would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

As he neared the source of the noise, the gunshots had died out, leaving only dull thuds and groans. He peeked around the corner into yet another brick alley, and immediately breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of a glinting red helmet. The Hood’s back was to him as he gathered up and positioned the unconscious men at his feet. Tim slowly walked in the alley and leaned up against the wall behind the Hood. He kicked out at the gravel beneath his feet, sending it skitting. The Red Hood whirled around in a snap, guns drawn. Tim was proud of the fact that he didn’t flinch. Instead, he maintained his casual stance propped up against the wall.

“You.” The Hood said simply. He lowered his guns and holstered them. They stood for a moment, staring at each other. Then, as quickly as he had turned to face Tim, he advanced towards him, getting right up in his space, pressing Tim against the hard brick wall. The air was positively electric. Tim recalled hearing that the second meeting of soulmates was a little more... _ charged _ than the first; the universe’s way of egging the relationship along. 

The hard lines of the brick dug into his back as he tilted his head up to look into the eyes of the helmet. “Hi.” 

A beat passed, and there came a soft hiss as the back of the helmet disengaged. Tim watched with soft eyes as Hood slowly raised his hand and removed it, revealing tousled black hair with a stark white streak near the front. A red domino covered his eyes, the white lenses preventing Tim from seeing their natural color. Even without a completely bare face, he was stunningly handsome. There was a small raised scar under his eye, as if his cheek had been sliced by a knife. It probably had, all things considered. Tim wasn’t ashamed to admit that a great chunk of his thoughts from the previous night had centered around what the Hood looked like beneath his disguise. He looked young, maybe a few years older than Tim’s 18 years. His breath caught in his throat as the Hood moved his face even closer.

“Hi, yourself.” He breathed, his eyes seemingly flitting around Tim’s face. His breath was warm, making a small puff in the cold air. His breath smelled like peppermint and nicotine. Tim found himself tilting his head back against the wall, feeling suddenly overcome with a tidal wave of emotion. This was  _ him _ . This was his  _ Match _ . His  _ Other _ . “What are you doing out here?” The Hood continued, leaning closer still. “It’s dangerous out here.”

At that, Tim flushed. “I was looking for you.”

A slow smirk unfurled on the Red Hood’s face. “Me?”

Tim straightened himself up, which resulted in putting himself even further into the vigilante’s space. “We didn’t get to talk much yesterday...after.”

Much to Tim’s disappointment, the Hood also straightened himself up, pulling away from Tim. “Did you consider that maybe that was by design?”

At that, a jolt went through Tim. No, in fact, he had not  _ considered  _ that. Outwardly, he merely blinked, attempting to prevent the emotions coursing through him from showing on his face. As a child, Tim had always dreamed of meeting his Match and immediately falling in the sort of deep, all consuming love that Hollywood was so fond of portraying. By the time he began to understand that even soulmate relationships required time and work, it didn’t even matter, because his soulmate was dead. And then yesterday had happened, and Tim had reveled once again in that childlike state of mind that of  _ course  _ they would work out, they were literally  _ destined  _ for each other. He had never considered that maybe his soulmate wouldn’t want him, would have some sort of aversion to the system of soulmates, because until yesterday, it hadn’t mattered. And now, all at once, he was faced with the idea that even though his soulmate was miraculously returned from the dead, it  _ didn’t even matter _ and--

“Woah, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” The Red Hood said, looking down at Tim with a slight frown on his face. Tim realized that his sudden fears and devastation must have started to show on his face, and immediately attempted to pull on his smooth, pleasant Drake Industries mask; the sort of expression his mother had helped him perfect before he was allowed to attend the most important galas in Central City.  _ Don’t let them see your cracks. _

“It’s nothing against you personally, it’s just. You know.” The Red Hood dragged a hand over his face. “Shit. I just mean that...it’s not gonna work out. My lifestyle isn’t very accommodating to things like soulmates. Yeah?” 

Tim’s eyes hardened. “Yeah. I mean, I can see how murdering people in back alleys might cause a few kinks in our relationship.” He said, a hard edge to his voice.

“Hey, kid, you don’t know shit about me, okay? You have no fuckin’ clue.” The Hood snarled back, his shoulders tightening up in defense. “Just because some fuckin’ star, or like, magic cloud or whatever decided we should be together, doesn’t mean you know anything about me. Those assholes that I kill are the kind of guys that deserve it. And just because I  _ do  _ it, doesn’t mean I  _ enjoy  _ it.”

Once more, Tim tried to keep his emotions behind his blank mask. He had accused Hood of murder to hurt his feelings more than anything, and had secretly hoped that Hood would refute the claims. Tim hadn’t been in Gotham long, and hadn’t bothered to pay too much attention to the Bat Clan, busy as he was trying to keep up with the Speedsters in his city. He truthfully wasn’t as well versed in the lore of the Bats as the rest of the city, and didn’t actually know for sure if Hood really killed or not. Of course, that’s what everyone in the city had claimed, but as someone whose family had been tabloid subject, he knew that not every rumor that the general public spread could be trusted. Last night, as he had laid in bed, daydreaming about his newfound soulmate, the thought had briefly crossed his mind, but was swept under the rug. Now that Hood had confirmed Tim’s suspicions outright, however, a small curl of unease unfurled in his stomach. His soulmate killed people. For a living. Or, for a hobby, rather.  _ Oh my fucking god _ . 

“Sorry, then. I don’t want to taint your reputation.” Tim kicked off of the wall and shouldered past the Hood, purposefully ignoring the electric tingles that raced up his arm where he touch the other man. “The big bad Red Hood, and all that. Kills people from behind his mask. He’ll shoot you in the knees, but won’t look you in the eyes. Whatever.” He spit, not looking back.

A heavy, gloved hand snagged his elbow, alighting Tim’s arm once more. “ _ Look--! _ ” 

Tim snatched his arm back, still walking, still refusing to look at the Hood. “No thanks. Sorry for bothering you.” He made it to the end of the alley and stepped out onto the barren sidewalk, doing his absolute damnedest not to start crying then and there. Sure, the Hood had broken his heart within a 5 minute conversation, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the bastard  _ know  _ it. 

He trudged back towards the bus stop, his heart in his throat, blind to the red and grey figure that trailed him from the rooftops despite it all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the rest of what I had written up yesterday! I find myself writing super in depth for particular parts and then glossing over the rest of the parts and im gonna make an effort to Not Do That from here on out. 
> 
> thank you for the hits, kudos, and comments, you really keep me going!

**Author's Note:**

> background: Tim is 18, Jason is 20. Tim is still a rich socialite, just not from Gotham, and doesn't know anything about the Bats or their identities. Jason still died though. Womp womp. 
> 
> sorry this is so short, I'm still getting into the swing of things!:)


End file.
